


Poison Tongues and Painted Lips

by CrimsonEnigma



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash, Genderbend, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, multiplayer characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonEnigma/pseuds/CrimsonEnigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Connor falls into Gillian McCarthy’s dangerous web. Dub/NC femSlash</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison Tongues and Painted Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the sound of our love is out of tune](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098392) by [brokibrodinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson). 



> (Specifically ch. 12)
> 
> Brokibrodinson’s fic made me do this.

Connor flitted across the rooftops, her robes catching the breeze like an eagle’s tail as she leaped over alleyways and slipped between chimneys. She wouldn’t let the Templar, Gillian McCarthy, escape.

She had met the fire-haired Templar once before whilst under partial disguise, only to be warned by others of the woman’s treacherous games. Connor soon learned from other sources that such caution wasn’t without reason; McCarthy was as dangerously skilled with her tongue as she was with her daggers. Connor had kept that information in the back of her mind as she took on an assassination contract within McCarthy’s stomping grounds. The target was a merchant with ties to both the Templars and the British army. Without him, the Templars would be out one more supplier. While that number didn’t seem like much, Connor was willing to make any blow against her enemies as she could.

Connor had known that there was the chance of encountering Gillian McCarthy again, even if the chance was slim supposing she kept her feet light and her blades silent. But events had not gone quite as planned.

Connor had been spotted—a careless mistake that had cost her the contract—and after fighting a handful of angry guards, she pursued her fleeing target. But upon tracking the merchant to a shady alley, Connor discovered the target dead on the ground. Gillian McCarthy stood above the corpse, calmly wiping her dagger on a handkerchief, without a single drop of blood on her vibrant green dress .

The two women stared at each other for a moment, Connor in surprise and Gillian in defense, before the latter bolted.

Connor didn’t waste any more time. Although she hadn’t intended to bother with such a high-ranking Templar without preparation, she couldn’t allow the opportunity to pass. After all, Connor needed to know why the Templars wanted the merchant dead as well. So she gave chase, gaining the high ground over twisting streets and using her Eagle Vision to keep McCarthy in sight.

After a time, with her lungs aching and her legs burning with exertion, she lost the redhead’s trail. Connor cursed, unable to spot her from the vantage point, and scaled down the building. McCarthy couldn’t have gotten far.

Connor had just begun searching on foot when she heard the gentle swish of fabric behind her. She only had enough time to squawk indignantly as she was throttled face-first against a nearby wall, arm wrenched painfully behind her and wrist twisted so that she couldn’t properly deploy her hidden blade.

“Well well,” Gillian McCarthy pressed her body flush against Connor’s back, preventing the Assassin from kicking out effectively. “It seems I’ve caught a little pup in my web.”

Connor snarled and tried to push off of the wall with her free arm, only to be shoved back hard enough to drive the wind from her lungs. McCarthy may have been a light woman, but she knew how to use her weight to her advantage. Gillian reached around Connor’s throat. For a brief, horrifying moment, Connor thought that the woman was going to slit her jugular. But instead, she only felt a small prick against her skin.

Connor tried again to shake the woman off. McCarthy was too close! Her body heat was stifling and her ample breasts were heavy against Connor’s back and Connor felt a sudden desperation to escape. Her heart quickened. Her head began pounding and sudden nausea gripped her stomach with iron claws. She felt as if the ground was spinning. Only vaguely did she recognize that Gillian freed a rope dart from Connor’s hip and tied it expertly around her captured wrist.

“Drugs,” Connor croaked. Fear finally settled into her veins like ice.

Gillian confirmed the suspicion with a light chuckle. “Honestly, I expected the lone Assassin harassing the Colonies to be a white man, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed,” McCarthy didn’t seem interested in killing Connor right away; she was probably intending to interrogate her first and THEN kill her.

Connor tried to take the opportunity to lash out again. She managed to finally push against the wall hard enough to shake the Templar from her back, but McCarthy sidestepped a wild backhand and tripped the dizzy Assassin. Connor tussled a moment more before finding her cheek pressed into the dirt and McCarthy’s knee digging mercilessly into her spine.

Gillian clucked her tongue at Connor and tied the Assassin’s other wrist together with the rest of the rope dart. “You rely too much on brute strength. It doesn’t become a lady.”

Connor snarled an expletive Faulkner would be proud of. McCarthy only laughed—a high pitched tittering sound that put Connor’s nerves on edge. She wrenched Connor’s hood aside, only to immediately halt her laughter.

“Oh,” her mouth was frozen perfectly and her painted eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “Oh dear,” she repeated as Connor glared. Then, McCarthy’s lips spread wide in a predatory grin. “You’re Grandmaster Kenway’s daughter. Connor, was it?” she laughed again, her body shaking in mirth. “Oh this is rich… When we met at the ball, I knew that you were something special, but I had no idea that you were daddy’s little Assassin! Does he know about your dalliances? That you prance about in men’s clothing and play the righteous Assassin? Of course, I’m sure he does—although it seems he’s turned a blind eye to his half-breed pup trying her damnedest to shatter our operations. I wonder what the other Templar cells would think about this, hm? That their Grandmaster harbors more than a little secret?”

“I’ll kill you,” Connor promised with a growl, forcing her anger to quash her fear. Haytham would be furious and his hand might be forced should knowledge of their blood relation become public. Few Templars and Assassins knew that they were father and daughter, and they each preferred to keep it that way.

“Ha!” Gillian barked. “Not like this, you won’t! But I won’t kill you, at least for now. I’m not yet prepared for the Grandmaster’s wrath.”

Gillian rolled Connor onto her back, expertly fending off the aimless kicks, and straddled the Assassin’s hips. She gently caressed Connor’s dusty cheek. “You were absolutely ravishing at the ball, and even now, there’s a wild beauty in you,” her voice was low and sickeningly sultry. She leaned in, painted lips brushing against the shell of Connor’s ear. “I never did have my dessert…”

Connor’s breath hitched and she choked on the lump in her throat. With her hands still tied behind her back and McCarthy’s weight on her thighs, she could do little to struggle, but she still tried. “Do not touch me!” she slurred angrily. The drugs in her bloodstream made her vision blurry and out of focus, but she knew that Gillian was grinning. She could feel the smile slide across her cheek and press against the corner of her mouth. Gillian grasped Connor’s jaw hard, nails digging into her cheeks, and forced the Assassin into a kiss.

Connor tried to close her lips, but her reaction was too slow and McCarthy’s grip was too strong to bite. She felt the other woman’s tongue slip past her teeth and seek out Connor’s own recoiling muscle. Distantly, past the panic making some animal noise in her throat, Connor wished that she knew how to make herself vomit upon will. The thought was fleeting as Gillian pulled away with a mirthless chuckle and allowed her hands to freely roam the Assassin’s taut frame.

Connor shuddered and gasped for air as the Templar roamed the shape of her neck and waist and hips. Gillian made a noise of intrigue as her fingertips traced Connor’s breasts. Panic seized Connor’s heart.

“Such a waste. You bind them, though thankfully not too tightly,” Gillian noted. Connor sucked in another harsh breath as she registered the sound of a knife being unsheathed. She struggled again, trying to turn onto her side and get some sort of leverage, when she felt the tip of the dagger press threateningly against the hollow of her collarbone. She paused, pulse racing, as the blade slipped down her shirt, shearing off the buttons in quick succession. Connor clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes against the humiliation. She knew that men raped women, but never had she imagined that a woman could rape another woman.

The linen wrap binding her chest sprang apart under the knife and exposed her sternum and open cleavage. Her breasts heaved under shuddery, shallow breaths. Though her robes were thankfully covering the majority of each, she felt too exposed, too vulnerable.

“You could ask me to stop, you know,” Gillian purred coolly, cupping soft shape of Connor’s freed bosom and rolling it in her hand. “Just tell me no. Relinquish your disgusting pride and beg me to release you.”

Connor ground her teeth in response, not trusting her voice enough to curse the Templar wench.

“Or do you prefer it like this, hm?” Gillian mocked, turning Connor’s head to the side like a marionette and exposing previously hidden hickies along her collar. “It seems as if you already have enough experience fulfilling your carnal desires. I wonder if Daddy Dearest knows.”

Connor fought the urge to laugh at the incredulity of the comment, and bit her lip to suppress any other noise as Gillian lewdly licked and nibbled at the marks. She was renewing the dark line as her painted lips sucked wetly from the hollow between her neck and collarbone to the area below Connor’s ear.

The Templar’s thumb found a dark nipple through the remaining fabric of Connor’s shirt and teased it mercilessly. A sharp gasp finally tore from Connor’s throat, and McCarthy pressed her knee against the junction between Connor’s thighs. Against her better judgment, Connor squirmed, only to whimper when the motion caused her to rub against the woman’s knee.

Gillian chuckled. “Eager?” she mocked. Her hand thankfully left Connor’s breast behind and trailed down her taut stomach, stroking the hard muscle under such soft skin. Connor made a repulsed noise, only to draw another laugh from McCarthy. The Templar unbuttoned Connor’s breeches with frightening precision and continued her journey. Her fingers splayed over the Assassin’s jutting hipbone and gently teased her way down, diverting from Connor’s core and to trembling thighs. She drew one of her nails against the tender flesh, causing Connor to jump and gasp again.

“Don’t forget that you have the power to end this…” her gentle coo was a sharp contrast to the pain shooting through Connor’s scalp as the Templar wrenched her head at an odd angle. Those dark lips pressed against Connor’s feminine adam’s apple and suckled on it. “Otherwise, I’ll just keep doing what I want to your poor, supple body. Just say it. Beg me to stop.” She rubbed her knee against Connor’s groin for emphasis, making the Assassin choke in horror and arousal.

Gillian grinned against Connor’s throat in pure delight as she shifted and dragged her questing fingers to the heat between the Assassin’s thighs. Connor gasped as the digits pet the wet slit, spreading slick between them and playing with soft folds.

Connor didn’t want to beg. She didn’t want to plead to a Templar. And although she would rather die than be raped, Connor knew that Gillian wouldn’t have the mercy to put her out of her misery nor did Connor have the current opportunity to kill the damn Templar. There was only one option to end this as her head reeled and her body twitched and shuddered pleasantly under Gillian McCarthy’s expert ministrations.

“Stop…” Connor gasped, her eyes clenched as tightly as her teeth. “Stop. Just stop!”

Gillian chuckled and delved her finger within Connor for emphasis. “Use your manners, Assassin…”

Connor writhed and trembled. Her thighs were wet with unwanted pleasure and her breasts threatened to topple out of her precariously slashed shirt. Her cheeks darkened in humiliation and she fought back the urge to cling to her pride. But she had none anymore. Her pride was already shattered and lost.

“Please,” she finally stuttered. “Please, stop…please…”

Gillian made a satisfied sound, and slowly, silkily, slid her hand from between Connor’s thighs. “See, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” She held the Assassin’s jaw steady, forcing Connor to watch as Gillian licked her own fingers clean with an in appropriate moan.

Connor shuddered again, fighting back a cry.

“You have no idea how much I want you…” Gillian’s gaze was hungry enough to steal Connor’s breath away. “But a promise is a promise.” She stood. “Besides, it’s not befitting for a lady to gobble all of her dessert at once…”

Connor felt a wave of pressure leave her body, both physically and mentally, and she nearly sobbed with relief. She was still shaking and the ground was still twisting and spinning beneath her, but she could breathe again. Even though Gillian’s perfume still clung to her nostrils, she could feel fresh air brushing over her face and it was amazing. But Connor’s fright and confusion remained. She was still vulnerable.

“Why let me live?” she croaked quietly.

Gillian tittered again and brushed some dust off of her green skirt. “Because you’re no good to me dead,” she stated. Catching the deadly glare in Connor’s dark eyes made her laugh again. “Don’t worry, little pup. I won’t tell anyone about your Kenway blood either. You’re too precious for that.”

“I will not submit to blackmail.”

She laughed again. “No, but you’re also too stubborn to tell anyone about our little ‘encounter’. So like this—with you alive and our secret safe between us—you’ll have to return to me in order to kill me. As long as I live, I’ll be a representation of your shame. I’ll have the power to reveal you for what you are. And you? You’re nothing but a lost little pup trying to play a game with wolves.” Her grin widened impossibly, canines bared in the setting sunlight. “You’ll come back to me. I know it. It’s only a matter of time now.”

Connor couldn’t find the words to retaliate. Gillian bade a mockingly sweet farewell and sauntered away.

Connor clenched her eyes shut, her mind spinning as quickly as the sky, and let her head fall back into the dirt. She shivered now that the heat was leaving her body and a spike of panic rustled her out of misery. She was a lone woman, drugged and bound, with her shirt open and her breeches undone. She couldn’t afford to be spotted by anyone, especially now that night was setting and seedier folks would begin rummaging the alleys like stray cats.

The Assassin only waited a moment longer before steeling herself against the fading drugs and awkwardly crawling towards the wall, behind a bush. Only shame and fear fueled her tired body as she tried to twist her swollen wrists out of the rope dart. The rope was tight, but poorly knotted. Yet it was a fight to get off since Connor had lost so much circulation while lying on her hands.

Finally, her wrists were free and she wasted no time buttoning her coat over her ruined shirt with trembling, weak fingers. The Assassin gulped down her sudden sorrow and terror, burying it somewhere in the deepest parts of her gut, and forced herself to stand. Her legs were shaky at best, but it was good enough. She pulled her hood over her head and stumbled from the alleyway.

Connor knew that she as a mess, but she didn’t care. She would rest tonight. She would plan.

And then, she would kill Gillian McCarthy.


End file.
